


So, I made you a pie...(Dean x Reader)

by LunaRS



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dean Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaRS/pseuds/LunaRS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain hunter asks to stay over and you won't let him leave the next morning until he does something...</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, I made you a pie...(Dean x Reader)

You slumped down onto your couch, exhausted after driving ten hours straight after a hunt; you'd liberated a town of a couple of changelings. As soon as you got comfortable, you heard a knock at your door. Who could be coming by at this hour of the night? It's not like you had very many friends.  
You begrudgingly got up, pulling out the gun that was tucked in the back of your jeans, and walked silently up to your door as the person behind it knocked again, a little more impatiently.  
You peered through the little peep hole in the door. You rolled your eyes and tucked the gun back into his original place and opened the door to an exhausted-looking Dean Winchester.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he started in a groggy voice, looking you up and down absently. "Wondering if I could crash here tonight?" he asked.  
The sight of him almost stirred the butterflies in your stomach; you'd gone on a few hunts with him and Sam before, and he was definitely one of the more handsome-looking ones.

"Sure." You shrugged, stepping aside to let him in.  
He picked up the duffel bag that was sitting by his leg and brushed past you, muttering a "thanks."  
"Where's Sam?" you asked, shutting the door behind him.  
"Wrapping up a hunt 'bout two hours from here. I'm picking him up tomorrow," Dean explained as he sat down on your couch.

"You okay?" you asked, spying some blood seeping through Dean's shirt.  
"I'm fine," he assured you. You didn't believe him.  
"Want a beer?" you asked, shuffling towards your refrigerator, opening the door.  
“Sure, thanks,” he called over his shoulder.  
You pulled only one beer--you weren’t in the mood--out of the fridge and handed it to him before walking over to his duffle bag and pulling out rubbing alcohol and bandages. 

“Take off your shirt. Let’s see it,” you ordered him.  
“I said I was fine,” he argued.  
“I don’t believe you. Shirt. Off. Now.”  
Although he was reluctant, he did as you told and pulled off his shirt to reveal the perfectly toned body you’d imagined he’d have. You were a bit dazed for a moment but tried not to show it; he’d noticed, no doubt.

There was a sizeable gash in his shoulder. You dapped at the wound with the rubbing alcohol and smiled when he grimaced; you didn’t know why but causing him pain made you feel better about still being awake to take care of him.  
“Hey! Ouch!” he complained, squirming about.  
“Sit still,” you instructed, making sure to thoroughly clean the wound before taping a bandage to the injury. Dean downed half his beer, not without shooting a glare in your direction. Once you were finished, you handed him his shirt and he slipped it on again. 

“I’ll get you a blanket,” you offered, getting up and walking to your hall closet.  
“Naw, I don’t wanna bother you,” Dean called from the living room.  
“I’m getting you a blanket,” you called back, the tone of your voice telling him that your decision was final. You walked back and practically threw the blanket at Dean, mumbling “I’m going to bed.”  
“Night,” Dean muttered back.  
You dragged your feet towards your bedroom and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

\--------

You woke, groggy and blurry-eyed, squinting your eyes at the clock to see that it was about noon, or thereabouts.  
You remembered what Dean had said about leaving in the morning and you guessed he was long gone.

You made your way through the living room, eyes half shut, and to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast/lunch. You put some bread in the toaster and turned towards the living room to see a still sleeping Dean splayed out on the couch.

You rolled your eyes and shuffled towards him. You looked down at him. Dean looked so peaceful; his worry lines were gone and he could've almost looked...happy.  
You smiled and brushed your fingers against his cheek, trying not to wake him.  
You then had an idea. Marching off towards the kitchen, you set to work making the one thing you knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse: pie.

Then you heard him stir, after you had only just gathered all the things you needed to start making pie.  
“(Y/N)?” you heard him ask as he sat up and rubbed his face before looking around, a little startled before he remembered everything that happened.  
“I gotta go get Sammy…” he mumbled, standing and grabbing his duffle bag.

“Nope, put the bag down,” you ordered him, getting another idea; this idea was a once in a lifetime chance to see Dean do something you never would have dreamed of seeing.  
“C’mere,” you said, picking up a wooden spoon and beckoning the hunter to you. He looked at you with a squint of his eyes in his exhaustion. “Why?” he questioned, setting the duffle bag down slowly.  
“‘Cause you’re gonna come in here and let me teach you how to make pie.” you said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

He stared at you, partially confused and partially skeptical. “Naw, I gotta go get Sammy…” he said slowly.  
“Get your ass in here,” you said in a tone that let him know that you were not to be messed with.  
“...Fine,” he conceded, shuffling into the kitchen. You grinned and set to work.

“What...what do you want me to do first?” he asked, a little more awake and obviously embarrassed by what he’d just agreed to do.  
You instructed him in how to make the pie crust and had him stir it. You got out a pie pan and showed him how to lay the crust just right; he got a bit of flour on his nose and you wiped it off, making him just a little bit more embarrassed as he batted your hand away from his face. You had also somehow gotten him to wear an apron, the only one you had, which said “kiss the cook.”

You and Dean took turns mixing the apples and cinnamon and butter all together, all the while cracking jokes and rude names at each other, playfully. You were having a good time, making a pie.  
Finally the pie went in the oven and in only thirty minutes of talking and joking and discussing, the oven beeped and Dean leapt up to retrieve the pie.

You looked him up and down a few times secretly, making sure he didn’t notice, and grinned. He sure was a looker. You stood and walked up to Dean after he set the pie down to cool. He took off the oven mit and turned to look at you. 

“How long we gotta wait?” he asked.  
“Five minutes?” you estimated. “Then you can take the pie with you on your way to get Sam.”  
He looked at the pie hungrily, almost pouting.  
“Now what?” he questioned you.  
“Well…” you began. He was pretty irresistible, wearing that apron and such. “I guess I gotta do what that apron says.” You stood on your tiptoes and pulled his head towards your until your lips pressed against his, earning a surprised grunt from the hunter-gone-cook.  
It didn’t take long for Dean to realize what was going on and deepen the kiss expertly. He leaned you against the counter and set one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek gently. He tasted like beer and chocolate and you smiled into the kiss; you guessed he’d gotten into your bowl of chocolate on the coffee table last night.  
After a very long moment, you pulled away and smiled, licking your lips quickly. Dean moved in for another kiss but you side-stepped away and giggled.  
“Nope. If you want more, you’ll just have to come visit more often,” you said. He gave you a little pout and you only smiled.  
The five minutes were soon up and he had gathered his things and was about to leave.  
“You’d better come back and see me,” you warned him. Dean grinned at you before opening the door. You didn’t really want him to leave but you weren’t really the sentimental type.  
“Fine. See ya, (Y/N),” Dean said before shutting the door behind him. You sighed.  
‘Well, that was exciting.’


End file.
